Why the Caged Bird Sings
by ColeHart
Summary: Based on the Mobster Challenge from Flesh-for-Fantasy.com! Set in 1940s NYC, Buffy is a lounge singer and Spike is a hitman hired to kill Buffy's boss (Angel's father). What happens when worlds collide?...
1. Chapter 1: Heaven

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Why the Caged Bird Sings…

Chapter 1

The spotlight was hard and hot on her bare back and the smoke stuck to her skin like sheets in the summer. But none of that mattered to her, after all this time she was used to the smell and the stick of the club. The familiar hush fell over the crowd when they saw the shimmer of her dress as she swayed her hips in anticipation…and when the piano started to sing she closed her eyes as she turned around to face them.

"You had plenty money 1922  
You let other women make a fool of you,  
Why don't you do right?  
Like some other men do…"  


Howls erupted from the audience. Feet stomping on the ground. Fists pounding on the shaky cocktail tables. The ice rattled around in the glasses. It sounded like a thunderstorm. And she was riding the wave. She hardly noticed them as she lifted her heel to the piano stool to stretch her leg. 

__

"Now get outta here  
get me some money too…"

Her breathy voice slunk out of the club on to the hot streets and crawled into his head where it swirled around until he stopped dead in his tracks on the dirty sidewalk. 

__

"Get outta here  
get me some money too…" 

"Are you all right?" Alexander asked, looking up at his boss, William, who had a strange look crawling across his face. He waited for a reply or an acknowledgement, but none came. Will wasn't listening to him. 

That sultry voice was haunting him…taunting him. Will followed the sound of her voice and his eyes came to rest on the door to the club—Heaven. 

Heaven was a speakeasy run by the Russomano clan—Guiseppe and his son, Angelo. And it so happened that Will had to get here anyway. So be it. He started towards the door without a second thought until Xander grabbed his arm. 

"What are you gonna do, just walk in there right now? Give your game away? We got the element of surprise goin' here. You can't just give that up to them!"

"Get your hand off me, Xander," Will's voice rumbled low in his throat. He flicked his cigarette off his nail and pushed his way through the door.

Xander stood there dumbstruck for a moment. "Damn Brits," he mumbled as he hurried in after Will. 

__

"If you had prepared 20 years ago  
you wouldn't be wandering now from door to door…"

The woman on stage didn't notice when the door swung open. A warm breeze came in with Will and the smoke from inside the humid club billowed and seemed to part when he entered the crowded room with his hat slung low. 

"_Why don't you do right…like some other men do…"_

He slunk along the back wall, trying to maneuver closer to the stage without being seen...especially by Guiseppe or Angelo. Angelo was dubbed Angel because of his innocent face. But Will knew better. Angel wasn't so innocent and he should be avoided tonight if that could be helped. Will wasn't ready to deal with him…not yet. So he stalked through the club, he was merely a shadow in the shadows and he made it halfway across the room without a sound by the time Xander clumsily bumped his way through the entranceway. 

Angel didn't see them enter. He was sitting at the bar fixated by the glittery light playing off Buffy's dress. He followed that dress up to her eyes and drowned in them. But she wasn't looking at him, as she should have been. So he followed her gaze into the darkness but couldn't see anyone in the shadows. He stood up from his stool—there was something amiss here. He could feel it even if he couldn't see it.

But Buffy could.

She was used to the darkness by now. She was always in the dark—always surrounded by it because she was constantly in the light. The spotlight was her place…surrounded by darkness. It was where she felt comfortable—where she had always been. 

Of course she had seen him slink through the thick crowd. She could feel his penetrating gaze as he drew nearer to her. He was close now. She could see this stranger—his bright green eyes studying her every move. He was meticulous. A curly strand of his pale hair peaked out from underneath his sharp hat that he pulled low to try and hide his face. But he looked back up at her…he couldn't stop.

Until the glasses shattered and the table broke. 

Trouble was brewing. And out of the corner of Will's eye he saw Angel head over to the door where the bouncers had Xander up against the wall. Angel's goons had recognized Xander…he was notorious for being Will's lackey. 

Buffy's eyes flickered as she followed Will's gaze towards the door. She saw Angel pounding his fist into some man's gut and she had to look down. All this violence. All the time. 

But when she looked up again, Will was gone. 

Her song had ended and the crowd was thundering again. 

Buffy couldn't see him in the crowd, so she slipped off stage and headed to her dressing room. But she didn't get very far. Just two steps into the dark and he caught her arm. She would have shouted, she turned to shout…but he was on her. His lips pressed against hers with an urgency she couldn't fight. She melted into him, her arms dropping to the side and they kissed with all the passion they could muster.

She felt his hand trace and linger on her face, brushing her lips…but by the time she was able to open her eyes, he was gone. Again. 

And then she heard the crashing of tables and bottles. She stepped back on stage, behind the curtain and peered out onto the scene taking in all the madness.

Angel was shouting. "Get to my father! That rat bastard is here for a reason. Get to his side!"

But then a fist came out of the darkness and sent Angel to the floor. Will worked fast. He brought a blade out from underneath his long, black coat and slit the throats of the two goons that held Xander to the wall. Buffy could swear she saw him smile as they fell.

Will grabbed Xander and they walked out the door. Angel jumped up and raced outside, but Buffy guessed they were long gone, because he came in again a second later with his brows furrowed. He stared yelling and she ducked her head back behind the curtain where the darkness covered her like a blanket. 

And she even smiled for a second, remembering his lips, his touch, the way he smelled…even the way he half smirked when he slit those men's throats…

Then her eyes went cold and her back stiffened. Angel was calling her name.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2: The Players

Chapter 2  
  
"Buffy!" Angel screamed for her again, and it almost sounded like pain.  
  
She lifted her chin, set her shoulders back, smoothed her hair, and absentmindedly traced her lips as she parted the curtain and stepped back on stage.  
  
She was pleased to see that the crowd in the club had dissipated. People were basically cowards. They all ran when the stranger brought out the blade. She was thankful for it. If she had to sing another song tonight, she might be the one slitting throats.  
  
"Stop hollering, Angelo," Guiseppe instructed quietly from his chair. "It's barbaric, really." The boss was the only other one left in the club besides Angel and Buffy. He was sitting calmly at his favorite corner table, sipping his brandy from a snifter, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  
  
He slowly turned his watchful gaze from Angel as he saw Buffy approach. The light was glittering off her dress onto the walls of the club and it gave the impression of a night sky. Buffy had her hands on her hips as she studied the situation unfolding between the two men. And the boss smiled gently at her, noting her contemplation.  
  
"Ah, Buffy. Just the woman I wanted to see. Shall we go?" He asked her as he rose stiffly from his seat and picked up his hat.  
  
She smiled softly as she strode to over to him, snaking her hips from side to side, knowing Angel was watching her every move. She took Guiseppe's arm when he offered it and she felt suddenly at peace despite the two dead, bloody bodies near her feet.  
  
"Father, you can't just leave. Not now! That was William the Bloody. They call him Spike, ever since that incident with the railroad---"  
  
"I know who he is," Guiseppe sharply cut him off. "He's a common thug. And no one I am going to worry about. This means nothing, nothing at all to worry about."  
  
At this, Buffy raised her eyebrows. Guiseppe's voice was tight. He was bothered. This William-Spike--had gotten under Guiseppe's skin. It was something Buffy had not seen before. She didn't like it.  
  
Buffy slipped her arm through his. "Come on, let's get out of here," Buffy said hoarsely as she pulled a little on her boss's arm. She turned to Angel. "Hon, is our car outside?"  
  
It was as if suddenly Angel remembered his place. He shook his head a little and came over to Buffy.  
  
"Are you all right, sweetheart? That thug didn't hurt you did he?" Angel softly asked her as he pulled her gently from his father into his own big arms. "I'd have killed him where he stood if he so much as laid a finger on you."  
  
A finger. Buffy thought of his finger, tracing her lip, just barely grazing the skin on her face--his gaze lingering on her for just a second before he- -  
  
"Buffy," Guiseppe curtly cut her out of her thoughts and stared right through her as if he knew exactly what she was thinking about. "You didn't even see him, isn't that right?" He asked pointedly. At her silence, he turned to his son, "She was onstage during this barbaric fiasco, far away from him."  
  
And Buffy swallowed her words, suddenly afraid of what was going to be.  
  
"Of course," Angel said, as she stroked her hair. "And the car is waiting for you outside. Darling, escort my father home and I'll meet you both there later after I clean up this little--mess," Angel finished dryly.  
  
"Of course, darling," Buffy replied just as dryly, as she lifted herself on her toes to chastely meet his lips, even though she could not meet his eyes. "See you at home."  
  
And her boss gently took her by the elbow as he led her out of Heaven, leaving Angel alone in the dark club plotting his revenge.  
  
(--------MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE CITY---------------)  
  
"Why did we have to go in there like that?" Xander shouted after Will as they briskly walked up some deserted alley. "We weren't ready tonight."  
  
"We?" Will scoffed as he took a hit off his cigarette.  
  
"Yes---we," Xander replied with a high note creeping into his voice, obviously hurt by Will's innuendo that he wasn't important.  
  
Will looked over at him and rolled his eyes, "Sorry, mate. You're right. I just had an itch I had to scratch."  
  
"Well, I hope you're all scratched up," Xander replied and Will raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Seems to me, you're the one with the scratches--" Will quipped, but before he could say another word he realized they were not alone.  
  
"Boys, boys, let's not argue," said the woman with the cloak as she stepped out of the shadows. "There's too much to be done yet."  
  
Will and Xander stopped, surprised at her presence. They hadn't heard her approach and that bothered Will especially. His chin jutted out in defiance and he took a long drag on his cigarette as he studied the woman with red hair.  
  
She pulled the hood off her head and smiled a little goofily at their surprise. She tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear as she continued.  
  
"I hope that wasn't your best attempt, Spike, or I would say I chose the wrong man for this job."  
  
"Well, hello there, Red. We weren't expecting you so soon," he blew his smoke out sideways.  
  
"And he wasn't expecting you so soon--but now he is. Now it will be harder. You at least had surprise going for you before," she almost whined at them.  
  
"I know!" Xander excitedly yelled. "That's exactly what I said!"  
  
Red smiled at him with a certain familiarity. Then she turned to Will with a seriousness in her stare. "Listen to me. This is important. I need you to kill him. If you kill him, this will all be right again," she tried to explain to them by waving her hands, gesturing at the world around them.  
  
Will's right eyebrow perked up a little at Red's words, but she continued, ignoring his apprehension.  
  
"I can't explain it any more to you. But what is now, is not what should be. And the only way to make it right again is if he dies." She took Will's hand in hers and stared into his eyes. "You don't think I have any reason to trust you. You think I shouldn't trust you. But I know you. I know you better than you know yourself here. And you have to do this for me, Spike."  
  
He winced at the name, but kept her gaze. "Right, Red. The old man dies. Things go all right again. Just like you say. And it's a happy ending for all."  
  
She smiled at him now, feeling a bit reassured, and took a step back, staring at both of these men--they would be heroes. They had to be. Or else the world would never know--the world would---no, she couldn't think like that. They would succeed. And everything would be set right again. She turned to go, but paused a moment before stepping into the shadows.  
  
With her back turned and her shoulders slumped, she offered him some wisdom. It seemed as if she didn't want to let the words go, they croaked from her voice: "Trust your heart, Spi--- Will. Trust what you know is real, not what you see. Trust in Buffy."  
  
And before he could question her, she disappeared into the darkness. Without a trace.  
  
"Whoa, spooky exit much?" Xander whispered as he rubbed his arms trying to get the gooseflesh to go away.  
  
But Will couldn't answer. He just stared into the darkness after the witch, lost in his thoughts. He was already remembering the way that woman tasted. The way she moved under his touch. It had to be that woman Red was talking about.  
  
Buffy.  
  
She made his heart beat for the first time in an eternity. He had to see her again. He had to feel again. And he knew just where to find her.  
  
TBC Thanks for all the feedback! Keep it up and let me know what you think. 


	3. Chapter 3: Familiar

Chapter 3 (Familiar)  
  
The car ride back to their home was dull and the air was thick with summer humidity. Buffy and Guiseppe did not speak. He stared hard at her, trying to see through her, but she kept her eyes down. And felt strangely guarded by the heavy air around her.  
  
Her heart was betraying her mind. She couldn't stop feeling things. All about that stranger. His lips. His fingers. His breath. His smirk. His stare. He was everywhere and Buffy knew if she met her boss's eyes, she would give herself away. So she fixed her eyes at her feet and tried not to breathe.  
  
It had been a long night and dawn was still several hours away. It felt as if it would never come. And somehow that feeling was familiar.  
  
When they got home, she went to her room, or rather the room that she lived in. Buffy sat in the window staring out at the darkness. Lately it felt as if that were the only thing she could do. Stare-well, stare and sing. She sang every night of the week with no break. She didn't mind. It gave her something to do while she stared. But tonight something had stirred. Something was different. There was an itch on her that needed scratching.  
  
Tonight when she saw William-or Spike-whatever his name was, she felt as if she could do something else. As if she were someone else. Meant for someplace else. Somewhere bigger than Heaven.  
  
And it was a thought she never had before. Heaven was the top of the ladder in her world. Working for the Russomano clan was a dream for her. And Angel had always treated her like an angel. She should be grateful to them- for their kindnesses.  
  
Angel and his father had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, no one else to go to. They had given her a home and their love. And she loved them back. She did. She loved them as much as she could.  
  
That was the part she kept to herself, the part that made her a mystery. It kept her separate.  
  
She loved them as much as she could. It was the best she could do. After all, how could she love them with all her heart? She could not even be certain whom her heart belonged to. Who was she? Who had been in her heart before? She did not know.  
  
Buffy woke up one day in an alley behind Heaven. And that was the day her life started. She couldn't remember anything before that day. Guiseppe called that day her birthday.  
  
She just opened her eyes. At first she couldn't see anything-it was dark and the air was cold, like a slap across the face. She saw her breath. That was what she saw first. And the first thing she felt was a swift kick in the stomach. One that made all the air come out of her and billow out into the night like a cool mist. And she almost marveled at the beauty of it until she realized she was fighting.  
  
And that was her first memory. She didn't even know she could fight. But she did. And it was a good thing too because the man coming at her looked like a monster. His forehead was bumpy and his eyes seemed to be a pale shade of yellow. It didn't seem to slow her down. She was on autopilot when she picked up a piece of plywood and drove it through his heart. He disappeared into thin air and she stood there gasping for breath, uncertain what to do next.  
  
But it was obvious.  
  
Guiseppe walked into her life, down the alley, and found her panting in rags. He took her in. Invited her into his home that he shared with his only son, Angel. They were an unlikely pair, but what did Buffy know about family. So she accepted their strangeness and blended hers with theirs and they all became a whole. And it had stayed like that for many years.  
  
At first Buffy was terribly sad. She couldn't remember who she was and that feeling crushed her chest and made it so she couldn't breathe. She would scream out every time she fell asleep for people whose names she didn't recognize. Guiseppe got her the best doctors that money could afford. But nothing changed.  
  
She never slept. At night, she would wander around the city streets and sing to herself through the dark alleys. Her walks would last all night and she would only wander back to the house at dawn. She always felt too lonely at dawn. As if she was forgetting something very important, so she went home.  
  
Angel took to following her. He stalked her from shadow to shadow-he was a natural predator. He watched as she found the worst creatures the night had to offer and he saw as she turned them all to dust. Into nothing at all. And it scared him.  
  
It reminded Angel of something somewhere. Of someone someplace else. But he couldn't remember what or who it was. So he told the boss about what he saw and heard.  
  
Guiseppe was the boss of the house and of his club and no one ever questioned him. His guardianship over Buffy was natural. He brought her to the club so she would not walk the streets at night singing to herself. She was to come to Heaven and sing for the crowds. It was what he thought was best. And Buffy could not argue with the boss. After all, who was she to make trouble?  
  
So he took her to Heaven and that is where she stayed every night since. Singing her heart out to strangers who fell in love with her for simply being who she was. Or rather, who she was not.  
  
It was good enough. She felt safe up on that stage in the light, surrounded by the dark. It reminded her of something familiar.  
  
The same something that the stranger reminded her of. He smelled of it, tasted of it, and she had to have it. It was coming for her from her past and it would not be denied. She wouldn't let it go this time. She couldn't.  
  
And she stared out into the dark searching for him still. She willed him to find her here as he had found her backstage. She needed his touch and closed her eyes in order to better remember his face-the sharp profile of his cheekbones, the smoothness of his skin, and the pale of his hair. The way he smelled like salt and the cool of his body.  
  
Her eyes were pressed so tightly together and her jaw was clenched firmly, trying to bring the memory of him back. She sat so still in her window, framed underneath the long vine-like arms of an old houseplant that hung from the ceiling in a blue croquet holder. The vines coiled themselves around some old get-well-soon cards that Guiseppe had hung on the wall. The vines looked like curtain shards. And everything was simply blowing in the wind coming in from the alley. Quiet dancing-like some kind of peace had floated near her cheeks, kissing her eyes, and had woken her from her apathy-but only for a moment to say a good-bye. The pages of the calendar whispered of times gone by as they rustled with the passing. Chimes came in with the air. Their song sounded like faeries whispering to her from an enchanted forest she vaguely remembered hearing once in a childhood dream. She could not let it go.  
  
And suddenly she knew. She felt him then. She didn't see him approach but she sensed him come in with the breeze. She opened her eyes and he was there. Sitting on her fire escape. So simple. Easy as sin.  
  
They only stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes were so wide taking her all in. As if he were surprised to see her! There was a subtle joy that played in those eyes as he gazed at her. He looked so innocent.  
  
But Buffy knew better. He was a killer. She had seen him kill tonight. She backed slowly away from the window without breaking their gaze and watched him fall a little deeper inside himself at her realization.  
  
He climbed through the window into her bedroom and tried to come closer to her. As if they knew each other. As if this should somehow be familiar.  
  
"Stop it," she warned him. "Right there."  
  
"Or what, pet?" he pushed as he drew closer to her.  
  
She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. She wanted him closer. She could smell him from there. One more step and she would fall in his arms. But she clenched her jaw in decision.  
  
"Or I will kill you," Buffy said with such ferocity he stopped dead.  
  
"And I believe you would," he said with a slight smile creeping up the corners of his mouth as put his arms up in mock surrender. "So what now, Buffy?"  
  
"How do you know my name?" she questioned him with a slant in her eye and her fists clenched ready to strike.  
  
"The witch told me," he shrugged. "Well, at least I think she is a witch. She keeps appearing and disappearing with the shadows," Will smiled and gestured with his hands that were still up in the air. But Buffy didn't seem to understand him. "You know, love, the bit with the red hair? Wears a cape with a little hood?" Still no reaction from Buffy. Will let his hands fall to his side. "Well, she knew you, Buffy. That is your name, isn't it?"  
  
"That's that they call me," she replied, dropping her guard a bit. "Why did a witch tell you my name?"  
  
"Not sure exactly, but she said I could trust you," Will said as he drew nearer to her. "Is she right about that too, Buffy?"  
  
"Well, I can't trust you. You're a killer. You tried to kill my boss-my guardian. I could scream right now and his men would burst through the door and kill you so fast you wouldn't know what happened," she said as she turned her back to him.  
  
"But you haven't given me away just yet," he said softly. "So maybe I can trust you after all. And for the record, I didn't try to kill your boss tonight."  
  
"Oh no?" she questioned, her voice getting a little tight. "Angel says you're an enemy-a rat-and the only reason you were there was to hit Guiseppe, but you failed."  
  
"Is that what Angel-face says?" Will scoffed, although he was getting upset at the tone that was creeping into her voice. It sounded vaguely like disgust. "What does he know about me anyway? I'll have you know why I came into Heaven tonight--" he started to explain, but got caught up in Buffy's big, doe eyes that were searching his face for answers.  
  
Will had to blink a couple of times to come to his senses. Buffy looked down for a moment too. When they looked at each other again, Will couldn't help himself-he told her the truth.  
  
"Angel-face wasn't all wrong. I won't lie to you. There is a hit on your boss and I'm the bloke to carry it out. But that's NOT why I was there tonight. Tonight I came because you called me."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes but Will stepped to her fast and grabbed her arm to pull her to him. But before he could explain what he meant, Buffy jumped up and kissed Will hard on the lips. He melted into her and she remembered this spark between them.  
  
Her hands found their way through his messy blonde curls and he lifted her up and carried her to the bed. As he lay her down on the bed, she bit his lip and he smiled at the pain. Will gently kissed her face and her neck. He lightly slipped off her silk robe and kissed her bare breasts in the fading moonlight. Will moved his lips down to her stomach and his hands were all over her, caressing her in all the right places.  
  
She moaned quietly in enchantment and with a force Will did not expect, she ripped off his shirt, popping the buttons one by one, and climbed on top of him. He chuckled a little in the deep of his throat and was reminded of the familiarity of this feeling. This woman--  
  
"Buffy," he whispered. "I know you from somewhere, don't I?" he asked with such innocence and longing.  
  
"Yes, you do, Spike. And I know you too," she assured him. "I knew it from the first second you stepped foot into my Heaven. I knew I was incomplete. But now you found me."  
  
He looked up at her in surprise and recognition. "You called me Spike."  
  
She kissed both his eyes closed. Then their words stopped and their lips met. Again.  
  
TBC Depending on if anyone cares about this story. 


	4. Chapter 4: Morning After

Chapter Four: Morning After

Neither of them had slept. 

They were trapped. She wouldn't look away from him and he could not stop drinking her in. Their eyes shone like the morning sun, which had already come and changed from gray to pale to bright.

And the street beyond the alley was starting to hum.

She clutched the white sheet to her breast and stood as he pulled up his trousers. She walked deliberately to her dresser and turned to lean on it as she gently tugged on her lip with her teeth, waiting…

He put his arm through his shirtsleeve and grabbed his coat off the floor, tossing it over his arm as he turned around for her. "Don't come to Heaven tonight," he offered without meeting her eyes. 

"I can say the same, she replied sharply." Buffy crossed her arms in front of her and took a breath before she spoke again. This time her words came softer, "He knows, Will. Don't be crazy."

He half-smiled and lifted his eyes to meet hers from across her tiny room. "Got no choice, pet. Name's Spike—and you are what you draw in this lot," he gestured with a bow and a glimmer in his eye. 

"Tell me about it," she countered with a bit of amusement in her words. She took a step closer to him.

"Would it help if I told you I made a promise to a lady?" he asked seriously.

She took another step towards him, shaking her head slowly as she held his gaze hypnotically and laced her arms around the back of his neck. "No," she admitted. "Kiss me." 

He took her in his arms so that he was her whole world for just that moment and he held her there as he kissed her goodbye. Then he set her free when he took both her hands with his and pulled them away from around the back of his head. He brought her small hands to his cool lips and closed his eyes for a breath before he head back out the window onto the fire escape. 

"See you tonight then, love," he promised her. 

And then he was gone. As easily as he had come. 

Or not so easy. 

At the end of the alley where it met the now bustling street, Angel stepped out of his car on his way home. It had been a long night for him. He grabbed the paper from his seat before shutting the door and as he turned, before his foot landed one step ahead and took him away from the view of the alley, his eyes ended up on Buffy's window as usual. Not in possession or fear. It was harmless—the everyday instinct to make sure your home is in order. And he saw Spike climb out onto the ledge. 

Angel quietly froze there for a beat of his heart. 

He waited for the beat, but it never came. He was paralyzed, waiting in the moment _between_ heartbeats to end. But it didn't—the silence stretched on inside his chest. And a footstep later he was out of sight just as Spike looked up. 

Angel walked into the apartment without breathing and spoke to himself when he promised "Tonight," through clenched teeth and punched the wall. 

"Tonight!" screeched Xander. "You can't seriously mean we are going back there TONIGHT?!"

"Like I said," Spike repeated, taking out a cigarette from the pack. "You're not to come tonight. They're going to be waiting for us."

"Which is exactly why I should be there." Xander nodded to himself. "They're waiting for US," he explained, puffing out his chest a little. 

Spike shook his head and looked at his friend with his head tilted sideways. "Right then—no one listen to me. We'll all go to the sodding club tonight! And I'll try to keep us all alive." 

His words hung in the air for a moment too long. 

"Were you with her last night?" Xander asked suddenly.

Spike was a little wary at this question and took a long drag on his cigarette before answering with a slow nod. "I was." 

"Can we trust her? I mean, the witch said you should trust her."

"And what does the bleeding witch know about anything?" Spike challenged a little too quickly. Then he turned his head and put his hat on squarely, tipping it just off center.   
"I trust her," he said under his breath as he walked down the hall towards his bed. 

But Spike's head was spinning. 

Buffy's boss was his mark and the old stooge was like her father. He didn't know if he could kill her father. He didn't know if she would even let him. 

There was such a strong draw to her he felt it even now as he lay down to bed and he cursed himself for it. It felt almost like a curse—like something deep inside him was opening up. He could not be certain why he was so full of her right now. Maybe it was the way she reminded him of death or the way eternity danced on her lips when she spoke. She was killing him slowly and if he didn't get to sleep soon, her sweetheart would be killing him quickly later tonight.

Angel. He was so pompous. So full of himself. Like he had some great purpose and everyone else's existence was meaningless—except of course for Buffy's. Spike knew Angel—he knew his dirty little secrets and he was certain Buffy never knew about them in that tiny room the man kept her caged in. 

Angel would kill for her. He would kill for his father. Hell, he was just as much a killer as Spike. But Buffy wouldn't see it that way, he was sure of that. 

But he was sure of that witch too. 

So he closed his eyes and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. 


	5. Chapter 5: Showtime

Chapter Five: Showtime/What You Have To Do  
  
(The Dressing Room, Heaven)  
  
She put her red lipstick on---harlot---it suited her mood, and she smiled as big as she could into the mirror lined with lights. But it still looked hollow to her. So she picked up some blush and began to paint her cheeks.  
  
How was tonight going to end? When dawn came again, which one of the men she loved would have left her? Her heart skipped a beat and when she looked at herself in the mirror she actually saw fear in her eyes.  
  
Then there was someone else. Guiseppe stepped out from the darkness, appearing behind Buffy in the reflection of her mirror. She tried to cover her fear with a smile.  
  
"Hey boss man," Buffy tried as she turned to face him with her half-hearted smile shaking, threatening to fall off her face at any moment. But it didn't matter, he was not looking at her, he had a thousand yard stare.  
  
Then slowly, he spoke: "Are you happy, Buffy? Are you happy here with me?" he asked her quietly---the words had traveled a long way from deep inside of him and he looked tired now that they were free.  
  
His brows were furrowed in thought and he didn't wait long enough for her to answer. He shook his head a little and continued. "---With Angel, then? Are you happy when you are with him, Buffy?"  
  
Only then did his eyes flicker over to her face to see what her answer really was. But she wore a blank expression-like an open canvas, he could see anything he wanted to in it. And his face wore pain.  
  
"A little deep for a Friday night, isn't it?" she tried lightly, as she turned back to the mirror to focus her attention on her blush.  
  
But he wouldn't let go. Not that easy. He grabbed her arm and squeezed tight. Guiseppe needed to know if he was right. She followed his arm up and met his gaze with strength behind her eyes. But he was insistent.  
  
"You are an ungrateful, stupid little girl! All of this---all of THIS---" he lashed at her with his arms flailing around him, gesturing to the room at large. "---All for you---for YOU! And still you are unhappy. I don't know what else to do." He exasperated and let go of her arm as he stepped away from her. "You're insufferable, really."  
  
But Buffy misunderstood him. Her eyes glazed over with the hardness that was so easy to hold onto.  
  
"I never asked for any of this," she said firmly as she rose from her stool and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You gave it to me. You FORCED it on me. 'Buffy can't roam the streets' and 'Buffy can't fight' and 'Buffy doesn't like that' and 'Buffy acts this way'-I am so-TIRED of it. I am exhausted by it---trying to be this person, this superhero, for you. I can only be me. Buffy."  
  
She had softened a little by the end and turned away from him, her arms now dangling past her hips, and silence filled the room, comforting them both for the long moment.  
  
Then, surprisingly, a slow smile crept across his old and tired face, pulling up the corners of his lips just a little and he tried to fight it.  
  
"You love him," he said with newfound amazement, shaking his head and taking off his glasses to wipe them with his jacket. "It's him and not Angel."  
  
Her head perked up at that. She turned her shoulders first, slowly, to face him again. There was dread in her eyes now. But he continued on without taking in her reaction. He knew the truth.  
  
"He's the tie that binds you to that world. Honestly I never believed it. I didn't think what you two had was real--but I should have known *he* was the link. After his sacrifice, when it was all over and you still couldn't-- -you wouldn't--" his voice trailed off as he quickly glanced over at her to see if he had sparked anything. He had said too much. Or maybe too little.  
  
Buffy was just staring hard at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her eyes searching his for answers. Her arms had crossed in front of her low-cut red dress and her breasts here heaving with rapid breaths of what he considered uncertainty.  
  
He took a deep breath and tried to set the record straight. "I just want you to know that I love you. I always have. And I'm sorry for doubting you-and for doubting him all these years," he uttered as came closer to her.  
  
Buffy was about to speak, but she stopped herself. Guiseppe was always watching her. He obviously knew more about her than she knew about herself and it wasn't right. Something was definitely wrong. She didn't know how he knew about Spike, or any of the countless other things he knew about her. But she should find out. This was serious. He was talking about other worlds, other lives---  
  
But when she looked up into his eyes she had to smile. There was only love for her and she couldn't fault him for knowing her too well.  
  
"I love you too," she conceded as she opened her arms to him and pressed her cheek into his chest. "But please, please tell me the truth. I know you think you've been protecting me from it, but I NEED to know now. It's getting to be too much to bear---the not knowing---"  
  
She was squeezing him so tightly to her, he couldn't breathe. Well, she's still got the strength---even here, he thought to himself. He had to smile to himself even though it kind of hurt. And he knew what he had to do. He was going to tell her what he had done.  
  
"Buffy, I need to tell you something very important-something you might not want to hear, but you have to hear it because it changes everything---"  
  
And he was about to say it. The truth about all of this was on the tip of his tongue. He didn't know how he would explain to her what he had done, but he would. It was all about to come rushing out. All about the spell---how he had worked it---WHY he had worked it. It was all for her, for her happiness, and now she would finally know.  
  
But no one had heard Angel approach. "Well, well, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I must admit it's hard to find a time when you're not in another man's arms," he watched coldly from the doorway.  
  
"Angel," Guiseppe jumped a step away from Buffy. "You startled me."  
  
"Telling our little secrets, father?"  
  
Guiseppe took off his glasses and wiped them on his tie, ignoring Angel's vague innuendo. "Buffy, we'll talk after your show."  
  
"Of course," she said with disappointment in her voice and watched him carefully, studying his every move as he walked out, closing the door behind him.  
  
Buffy turned back to the mirror, her shoulders slumped a little in defeat, and sat down to finish her makeup, trying to ignore Angel looming over her. She had a lot to think about without taking him into consideration.  
  
Guiseppe was going to tell her something, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Not really. She knew it had something to do with Spike---and Angel-- -even her and Guiseppe. He had said, "After his sacrifice, when it was all over and you still couldn't---you wouldn't---  
  
Those words haunted her. They invoke a memory just out of her reach. She closed her eyes, willing the memory to come to her. But all she saw was an all-encompassing bright white light that seemed to explode. And when she opened her eyes, Angel was still there, staring at her even harder than before.  
  
"Don't you have anything to say to me?" he asked her.  
  
"Not so much" she returned too lightly.  
  
There was the heaviness of an awkward silence for a moment. And she closed her eyes tight as she put down her makeup brush and put her hand to her forehead. How could she explain this to Angel? How could she explain this to herself?  
  
She loved Angel---he loved her too. He was all she knew---all she had ever known. And Spike-well, she didn't know him at all. She just felt she knew him. She felt familiar when she was with him. Guiseppe knew something about all of this, but he wouldn't tell, not in front of his son anyway.  
  
And suddenly she knew what she had to do. She just had to tell the truth- throw consequence to the wind.  
  
"I do have something to tell you," she started to explain when she turned to look at him and rose from her seat like a saint to her martyrdom.  
  
"I saw him," Angel cut her short. "Climbing out your window like some bleached Romeo."  
  
Buffy winced at the harshness of his tone and the impact of his words. "Angel, I---"  
  
"You what!" He yelled. "Let me guess---You're sorry? He's a killer, Buffy. A killer who is going to kill our family! He's going to take everyone I love away from me---" he finished weakly.  
  
He spun around from her, his fists clenched, pain in his eyes. Buffy walked over to him and gently put her hands on his back when she spoke to him.  
  
"Angel, there is no easy way to say this. I love you. I always have and I always will. But Spike-he feels familiar to me. I feel like myself when I'm with him---that part of me that I can't remember actually stirs when he's near me. And I can't help it. I wish I didn't---"  
  
Angel looked down at her, his eyes wide with fear. His head was slowly shaking back and forth, willing her not to say it.  
  
"But I do," she finished quickly. Then she drew a ragged breath. "I love him. I do. I knew it from the first second I saw him in Heaven. And maybe even before then---"  
  
Angel stood there silently. He was no longer looking at Buffy. There was a timid air about him she didn't recognize. Something that appeared like a realization crossed his eyes and she turned away from him. She didn't want to see it. It looked like a memory.  
  
Then, like a godsend, outside the thin door the music picked up. A slow jazz number. The club was waiting for Buffy. She walked back over to her mirror.  
  
"Can you please say something?" she asked him quietly as she slipped a feather in her hair.  
  
"There's nothing left to say," he replied a little too quickly. "It's show time."  
  
She pressed her lips together and walked delicately across the room, pausing once at the door, then opening it and slipping quietly out the same door Angel had strode through. And then he was alone in the dressing room.  
  
Buffy walked to the back corner of the stage, where the red velvet curtain hit the dividing wall that hid the front of the club from the back. She stayed there-in between. She leaned against the wall and clung to the thick of the curtain, pulling it to her as she waited for her time to come.  
  
The club was packed. Buffy could smell it in the air. The scent made her high. It got under her skin and made her hum. Her hips rocked back and forth in anticipation. But as she looked into the darkness, she knew it wasn't Heaven that made her feel this way.  
  
This buzz came from Spike. Buffy could feel him on her skin. He was here. She could almost feel his eyes on her. She stopped swaying and started to smile-the light came back to her eyes and filled her insides, raising her up.  
  
But then Angel walked out of the back and into the middle of the busy club, locking eyes with her. And then there was a sinking feeling in her gut that made her cold. Then she felt it in her bones--this night was cursed.  
  
Suddenly she had the sense to run. Lift up her dress a little, run down the stairs, through this crowd, out the doors, down the street and out of this life. For good. She was searching quietly, discreetly, for a way out.  
  
But then her eyes got to the corner table. And he was there, like he always was, watching her. Always watching. Guiseppe's eyes were already on her. Smiling at her. Calming her. Reminding her there was something else going on underneath all of this madness. And she would know what it was soon enough.  
  
So when the piano started to resonate with an old familiar song, she stepped up to her place in the spotlight without another thought.  
  
And in the deep shadows of Heaven, Spike closed his eyes and winced as a pang shuddered through him.  
  
He really thought Buffy might go. For a moment, he could sense her searching for an exit route. He willed her to run. Get out of this. But of course she stayed.  
  
Buffy had that sense of loyalty in her. He felt it when he kissed her. She made him love and hate her with a fiery passion he feared would consume him. And soon, he thought, it might.  
  
Then his gaze fell on Guiseppe and his eyes grew cold with the understanding of what he had to do.  
  
TBC 


	6. Chapter 6: Not in Kansas Anymore

**Chapter Six: Not in Kansas Anymore**

And it all fell away from her in the reverb of the piano. 

She just closed her eyes and all the questions and the lies were gone. She shut out Angel's glare and held Guiseppe's smile behind her eyes. She felt Spike on her skin, smooth as sin, and she smiled peacefully to herself as her song began.

_"Oh, the Merry-Go-Round broke down  
And we went round and round  
Each time we would miss, we'd steal a kiss"_

At the velvet of her voice, Spike looked away from his target. 

She looked so beautiful on that stage. The red of her dress matched the red on her lips and her hair fell like Goldilocks all around her shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch her. But she was in the light and he was standing in the shadows. They were in two different worlds now. 

So, he set off to do what he knew how to do. With his hat slung low, he walked through the darkness to the corner table where the boss always sat. 

_"Oh, the Merry-Go-Round broke down  
And it made the darnedest sound,  
The lights went low, we both said "Oh!"  
And the Merry-Go-Round went  
"Um-pah-pah, um-pah-pah"___

The crowd was going wild for her. They always did. Their feet were stomping and their glasses clinking. But Angel wasn't a part of that Heaven.  He sought out the darkness to find his revenge. And it didn't take him long. 

There was a dark figure stalking through the club towards the corner table---towards his father. Angel followed his own gaze with a quick step and took the blade out from his belt. It felt cold in his palm and the coldness spread through his empty chest, filling him up, giving him meaning. Spike would die tonight. 

And onstage, Buffy couldn't tell anything was amiss in Heaven. She was thrusting with her whole body as she sang.

_"Um-pah-pah, um-pah-pah___

_"Um-pah-pah, um-pah-pah"___

Xander snuck in through the back entrance, his collar flipped high, just in time to see Angel pull the blade from his belt. And he knew exactly where Angel was headed---towards Spike. So Xander hurried after him as smoothly as possible. 

_"Oh what fun – what a wonderful time  
Finding love for only a dime."_

Guiseppe was sitting at his corner table sipping his brandy and he had a gentle smile as he looked up at the stage. She was so beautiful. And happy. She was happy onstage. It was the only time he had ever seen her so. Up there, in the spotlight, she had a glow to her. 

A glow she lost after Sunnydale fell. 

And his smile faded at that memory. That reality. That reality was over. He had ended it. He had ended it for her. She had been so unhappy there after it was over. After that ending. Buffy had no place in the world. 

After Willow had released the Magiks and birthed all the potential slayers, Buffy wasn't the Chosen One anymore. And maybe even more important to him—he wasn't her Watcher. He hadn't been in a long time.  She didn't think she needed to be watched. But she did. 

So he took her. 

Her and Angel. He only took Angel because he had been certain that Angel's presence would ensure her happiness. But now he supposed he had been wrong. He lifted his glass to his lips and tried to think of how things had gone so wrong. How other people had gotten here—in this new place he created special, just for them. 

Spike.  How had me managed to get here? 

He was certain that it was Spike as soon as he saw Buffy's face. It didn't matter that Angel had seen him---Buffy had that look in her eyes again. The look only Spike could give her. So he knew it was real. But Spike was dead. He had sacrificed himself. 

So what was he doing here? Standing over him now---looking down at him as he sipped at his brandy snifter.

"Spike?" Guiseppe asked hoarsely, with surprise creeping in at the end. "What are you doing here?"

"Red sent me," Spike replied plainly, his eyes focused like daggers on his target. "The witch wants you dead, she says it's necessary. The world's not right now, and it won't be again with you in it."  

Spike didn't know why he was standing here talking to the old man when he should just be killing him. But then he remembered, the reason was on stage singing her bloody heart out. 

_"Oh, the Merry-Go-Round broke down  
But you don't see me frown…"_

"Of course," Guiseppe muttered to himself, lost in thought. "I am the one to break the spell because I am the one that created the spell---created this world."

Spike pulled his long blade from under his black overcoat. He didn't want to do this. It felt wrong. But he held the blade anyway, uncertain of his next move. The old man didn't see the glimmer of light at the pointy tip, but Angel did. And he ran over to them with his own knife burning his hand, itching to kill. 

Xander yelled out a warning to Spike, but his voice was drowned out by Buffy's sultry song.

_"Things turned out fine and now he's mine -  
Cause the Merry-Go-Round broke down..."_

Guiseppe looked up just in time to see Angel approach behind Spike. 

He recognized the hatred burning Angel's eyes and he smelled death in the air. He heard Buffy's voice singing and without a second thought Guiseppe jumped up just in time to push Spike out of the way of Angel's wrath. 

And the knife slid deep into the old man's side.  

Angel twisted it in rage before he realized what had happened. After he knew what he had done, he pulled his knife out, his eyes opened wide in horror. 

When the blood spilled out from the old man's side, Heaven erupted in cheers at the end of Buffy's song. And she glanced over to the corner table with a smile on her lips, looking almost victorious with the roar all around her. 

But when she saw him fall to the floor already covered in his blood, her smile died wretched and slow, contorted by the reality and she screamed with all the pain of a thousand deaths. 

"Giles!" 

At the sound of that name, Spike looked up at her from the place on the floor he had fallen.  And Giles's eyes closed in recognition. And Xander ran to their side. And Angel's brow creased in memory. And the witch stepped out of the shadows and kneeled by the old man, taking his shaking hand in hers with a loving touch. 

"Hello Willow," he whispered to the witch without surprise. "Who's the amateur now?" he asked weakly as he searched her face for forgiveness but saw there was no need.  Willow smiled at him with only love in her eyes. "I only wanted her to be happy."

"I know," she hushed him.  "From now on she will be.  I promise."

Then Buffy was at his side, frantic. "Giles, what's going on? Where are we? What are we doing here?"

Willow stood and backed away a little to give them some solitude before Heaven started to decay, and she knew it would.

"Buffy, shhhh, listen to me, we haven't much time. You don't belong here. Neither do we," and he motioned around to their little circle that had gathered around them. 

Buffy looked around and saw Willow and Xander and Spike and Angel, each in turn, circled around them.  She looked down at herself in the red dress and Giles laying in his own blood.  

"But why?" she asked as the tears came.

"I just wanted you to be happy. You seemed so sad and you deserve to be happy. This was the best I could do for you," he gasped. 

Breathing was getting to be difficult for him.  She looked at him in alarm—she knew what was coming for him. She had seen it countless times before. Buffy reached out for him, she had to get him out of here---but her hands went right through him. Her eyes grew even larger and her mouth opened wide, but no words came. She was helpless.

"You looked so beautiful up there in the light, Buffy. So happy. Your songs made me so happy."

Then the world started to melt all around them and Giles seemed to dissipate before her eyes, blending in with the floor and finally disappearing all together. And the world he had constructed for them started to fall apart.

Buffy was still kneeled on the floor, her hands red with his blood when the cracks began to show. There was a deafening sound all around them, like paper shredding, and pieces of Heaven flew by their heads, out of their hands and away from them. Colors blurred together and dripped from the walls, swirling like a tornado all around them. It was the end of this world.

And she was lost. 

Buffy didn't know what to do next or where to go. In fact, she didn't have a clue just who she really was or where she was and this world breaking apart this whole business was making her sick to her stomach. There was no one else around. They had all gone ahead. But she didn't want to leave this world. It was all she could still remember clearly.  All the rest was blurry. 

Then Spike was there with her. 

He would always be with her.  That much was clear. He kneeled down next to her and took her hands with his. She met his eyes with longing and need. And for that moment, everything stood still. 

"This isn't where we belong, Buffy. You know that," he said softly to her, his eyes squinting a little, willing her to understand. 

She swallowed a moment before speaking to him and what she said sounded like a confession. "I don't think I could go through this again if you weren't---Are you real, Spike?"

"Only when I'm with you, pet," he replied with a smile and a nod. "Let's go, love, the world's falling in on us again and we're not in Kansas anymore."

Buffy stood, balancing herself on Spike's strong arm. And holding onto each other, they walked out of what was still left of Heaven to find what the real world held for them.  


End file.
